When I was a young fletchling, I was surrounded by friends. So many Lights in my life, Who’d follow me to any end. Each and every light has gone out, Turned to ashes many years ago, Snuffed out by war and strife, Leaving me with misery and woe. Curses, curses to my long life-span! Why am I left the lonely wanderer, In this dark and barren land, Led by such lowly squanderers? Well, no, that last part I doubt, Those who now rule this world deserve it. Bonded by their strength, guided by their hand, Fueled by their minds, structured by their wit. The rulers, indeed, are foolish no longer, The years have taught them hard lessons, Yet if they had only listened to mine, Perhaps I would not be in such a depression. For I tried to guide them through The struggles they themselves had made, To oblivion they were consigning the oblivious, I tried to help them, teach them, lend my aid. Yet they thought themselves smarter, stronger, They would not listen to the guidance I gave. Their mistakes left my world, my people, my friends to die, But it is still best they have the power they crave. For the alternative is worse, it’s true. Their followers have not the responsibility to rule. It is better - far, far better - to not let them try. Anyone who believes otherwise is nothing but a fool. These followers are followers for a reason, Powerless, witless, they’d simply be craven kings, I’ve seen what they would do with such power, So many foolish, self-destructive things. It’s been twenty-five hundred years And more since I’ve come to this place, To the land of those who unwittingly cower, To the land of this pitiful Human race. Yes, the rulers may have committed treason, Gunpowder, negligent plot, And if they had just listened to me Would my suffering have happened? It would not. But they are best equipped to carry on, To ensure my sacrifices were not for naught, To tend to the last flame in the night, Preserve the light of a world they nearly forgot. So I will not tempt fate’s gears, I resign myself to a lonely sorrow. The world is, more or less, as good as can be… ... ... ... Perhaps I will see my friends tomorrow.
[Author’s Note: This poem about the legendary Phoenix was originally written December 6, 2020 and remastered for release. I may continue releasing Shockwaves, new and old, over the coming weeks, to bring you little glimpses and tales from the Thyriaverse while I work on the finale of The Gatekeeper: The Radio Drama and a new Thyriaverse series for the site. Until then… welcome back to my world.]
